Upload
others
View
1
Download
0
Embed Size (px)
Citation preview
Metropolis of The Mind: How Delhi has Become a Shadow of its Old Self
Delhi is fast becoming a lost city to its inhabitants, a hazy shadow of its old glorious self.
Delhi in the cooler months, between early October and late March, once a six-month stretch of mild sunshine,
blue skies, crisp air, festivals of every major religious community, associated with agricultural cycles, equinoxes
and other natural and cultural punctuations of the annual solar calendar braided with the monthly lunar calendar,
lives now only in memory. A pall of the world’s worst air pollution descends on the city at the beginning of what
used to be the festive season, and lifts only, if at all, as the harsh summer approaches, bringing with it its own
problems of excessive heat and water scarcity. Our lifespans have been shortened, we are told, by sustained
Changing the way of learning…
Daily Vocab Capsule 21st
December 2018
exposure to various pollutants, but things have reached a stage where one can only see this as a relief from having
to live on in a place no longer fit for human habitation.
We cough, gasp and choke our way through these punishing winter months, with poor visibility, skies neither
blue nor sunny, and a feeling of being trapped in a long nightmare from which we cannot awaken. A public
health emergency engulfs us all, from children with permanently compromised respiratory systems to the elderly
struck by lung cancer towards the end of their lives. The persistent itch in our throats and the dull ache in our
heads will not go away for weeks at a time. Mornings and evenings are unsafe for walks; any outdoor activity
necessitates the use of masks if not inhalers; natural light can only be seen when one leaves town. Eerily
simultaneously, a political fog descended on the capital in 2014.
Lost cities
In late August Ashis Nandy delivered the Daya Krishna Memorial lecture in Delhi, titled “Lost Cities and Their
Inhabitants”. He was careful to define and delineate what he meant by “lost”. A “lost city” is one whose past
one can remember and relate to; one whose memory as a living city is not overwritten by an episode of final
destruction. Thus Hiroshima is not a lost city, since it was completely destroyed in the form in which it had
existed by the detonation of an atomic bomb in August 1945. A city may be called lost when people remember
its life and not its death. The city as it continues to be and the city’s lost self are, in a sense, discontinuous with
one another.
Lost cities are autonomous, to use Prof. Nandy’s term, from their real counterparts. He spoke about Bombay and
Jerusalem, Cochin and Dhaka, Lahore and Hyderabad, Calcutta and Lucknow. Needless to say, histories of war,
genocide and mass migration are implicit in the stories of these cities, and many others in the world, ancient as
well as modern. An age passes, sometimes, before our very eyes, and what used to be our home and our haven
becomes the site of myth and legend. The past serves our emotional and psychological needs, so that we keep it
alive in memory to nourish our desiccated present. But it is not easy to return to or take refuge in a lost city. To
try to go there is a kind of madness; to try to keep on living there is to reiterate and perpetuate our trauma of the
loss and alienation we experienced when we were overwhelmed by historical forces.
Delhi seems to exemplify the lost city. It has had so many lives that perhaps it is always a lost city, from the
vantage of any present, looking back at a vanished past which would be but the most recent of a series of receding
pasts that disappeared sequentially one after the other. We live in the debris of the Islamicate Sultanates and the
Mughal Empire, Lutyens’ city and its Nehruvian descendant. Both its medieval and modernist avatars survive in
a hybrid and fragmentary fashion, joined by a colonial hinge, altogether a peculiar but graceful mélange of eras
and styles spread out over more than a millennium.
Moments of catastrophic transformation — 1857, 1947 — at once break and remake the city, never the same, no
going back. For my generation, the line splitting a before and an after in terms of politics is surely 1984. But
whatever our identity and our affiliations, we will remember a Delhi not yet laid low by environmental pollution,
reckless urbanisation and climate change. We are condemned to struggle for the rest of our days to mentally re-
inhabit that idyll of blue sky, green grass, broad avenues, massive trees, a flowing Yamuna, clean air and
slumbering monuments.
Campus, city, nation
The precipitous decline of Delhi has also been playing out in a microcosmic way on the once vibrant and
verdant campus of Jawaharlal Nehru University. Led by a Vice Chancellor almost Shakespearean in his animus
against the university in his charge, JNU has been on its own death march for the past three years. The university
administration has declared war on students, faculty and non-teaching staff alike, attacking the institution from
within on all fronts, ranging from the pedagogic, the intellectual and the ideological to the financial, the
bureaucratic and the infrastructural. Teaching, learning and research are no longer permitted. A blanket of
hazardous particulate matter coats the red brick buildings and the wild forest in which they are set; hapless
denizens can scarcely remember what a normal academic year felt like.
The most recent battlefront has been opened at JNU’s iconic gathering place: Ganga Dhaba, a nondescript tea-
shop on the right soon after you enter the main gate, opposite Ganga Hostel. Don’t be fooled by the unassuming
appearance of this spot, which you could easily miss if you didn’t already know it was there. The Dhaba is where
students hang out, talk, argue, gossip, smoke, flirt, fight and grow up into articulate, opinionated adults, and have
done for decades. It is the seedbed of JNU’s political culture and its argumentative nerve centre — the
fountainhead of revolutions. For the very same reasons that students gravitate there, the current administration
sees it as a threat to the BJP’s rightwing government and its Hindutva agenda.
The university plans to shut down outlets such as the Ganga Dhaba construct a food court on the campus. This
new structure will be sanitised, serving “clean” food and beverages, mirroring the drive to allow the circulation
of only those ideas that the Modi regime considers palatable for India’s youth. Dust, flies, anti-nationals and
mavericks: all will be evicted. Countless social scientists, journalists, activists and artists, all graduates of JNU,
met their conversation partners and life partners at Ganga Dhaba: almost every one of these relationships,
friendships and marriages broke the rules of caste, class, religion, language and region.
Before it’s too late
A crucible of diversity, dissent and solidarity, Ganga Dhaba, for all its apparent decrepitude, symbolises every
value of a free, democratic and plural India that the current majoritarian dispensation is bent on destroying. Like
the city of Delhi that surrounds it, JNU too is fast approaching the state of being lost. Can we attempt to save the
city that is ours and the university that we love, before it is too late?
Courtesy: The Hindu (General Studies)
1. Delineate (verb): Describe in vivid detail. (वर्णन करना)
Synonyms: Describe, Define, Explain, Depict
Antonyms: Misdescribe, Misrepresent, Misstate
Example: The main characters are clearly delineated in the first chapter.
2. Desiccate (verb): Remove the moisture from (something), typically in order to preserve it. (सखुाना)
Synonyms: Dehydrate, Dry, Parch, Shrivel
Antonyms: Hydrate, Wash, Water, Wet
Example: Add a cup of desiccated coconut to the mix.
Related: Desiccated, Desiccated
3. Melange (adj): An unorganized collection or mixture of various things. (मिलावट, मिश्रर्)
Synonyms: Agglomeration, Assortment, Medley, Mishmash
Antonyms: Division, Separation
Example: The dessert was described as "a mélange of summer fruits in a light syrup".
4. Verdant (adj): Covered with healthy green plants or grass. (हरा भरा)
Synonyms: Green, Leafy, Grassy, Luxuriant
Antonyms: Barren, Arid, Infertile
Example: A beautiful, verdant field.
5. Precipitous (adj): Very steep, perpendicular. (सीधा, बहुत ढालवााँ)
Synonyms: Abrupt, Vertical, Sheer, Steep
Antonyms: Gentle, Gradual, Moderate, Horizontal
Example: Over the past 18 months, there has been a precipitous fall in car sales.
6. Palatable (adj): Pleasant to taste. (स्वामिष्ट)
Synonyms: Ambrosial, Appetizing, Delectable, Scrumptious
Antonyms: Distasteful, Insipid, Stale,
Example: The vegetarian version of that classic dish turned out to be equally palatable.
7. Slumber (verb): To sleep, especially lightly. (झपकी लेना, सोना)
Synonyms: Doze, Drowse, Siesta, Nap
Antonyms: Insomnia, Sleeplessness, Wakefulness
Example: She slumbered for hours while the train rolled on.
Related: Slumbered, Slumbered
8. Pedagogic (adj): Relating to teaching. (अध्यापन मवषयक)
Synonyms: Academic, Educational, Scholastic, Didactic
Example: They have great pedagogic skills.
9. Maverick (noun): An unorthodox or independent-minded person. (स्वतंत्र मवचारों वाला)
Synonyms: Bohemian, Boho Iconoclast, Eccentric
Antonyms: Adherent, Follower, Conformist
Example: There's always one maverick who has to go his own way.
10. Evict (verb): To force out. (मनष्कासन करना)
Synonyms: Eject, Expel, Oust, Remove
Antonyms: Admit, Welcome, Receive
Example: They were evicted from their apartment.
Related: Evicted, Evicted